Forsaken Luna becomes Luna Queen

Zulan

(Alpha Zulan's POV)

The staccato rhythm of his fingers against the polished oak of the council table was the only sound in the room. Each sharp tap echoed the impatience thrumming through his veins. Four of his advisors stood around the table, their faces drawn, their voices a low drone of problems he had no interest in solving.

"...the increased Rogue activity along the southern border is unprecedented," the eldest, a gray-bearded male named Vorlag, was saying. "They are organized, which suggests leadership. They are not simply scattered beasts acting on instinct."

Zulan let him continue, his gaze fixed on the intricate carving of a snarling wolf on the table's edge. He had heard it all before.

Rogues.

Borders.

Weaknesses.

It was the same tired song, sung by the same tired voices.

"And your own tendency to engage them directly, Your Majesty," another advisor, a younger male with nervous eyes, added. "While your courage is admirable, it leaves the pack vulnerable without its Alpha. Your Lycan is a formidable weapon, but you are the mind that must guide it."

A third advisor cleared his throat. "Which brings us to the most... pressing concern. The line of succession."

Zulan's fingers stopped tapping. The silence that fell was heavier than the previous drone of conversation.

"You are in your twenties, Your Majesty," the fourth advisor, a female with sharp features and an even sharper tongue, said. "A Lycan Royal. A King. And you have no Luna. No heir." She paused, letting the weight of her words settle. "It is unheard of. The pack grows restless. The people need stability. They need to see the future."

He had heard enough.

"Enough!" Zulan's voice cut through the room, sharp and cold as a winter wind. He pushed himself back from the table, the legs of his chair scraping loudly against the stone floor. "I have no need for a woman who will only hold me back. A distraction I cannot afford. This meeting is over. Leave."

The four advisors flinched as if struck. Vorlag opened his mouth as if to argue, but one look from Zulan silenced him. They gathered their papers and their dignity, filing out of the room with a haste that bordered on undignified. The heavy door closed behind them, leaving Zulan alone in the cavernous chamber. A moment later, a side door opened and his Beta, Kael, entered. Kael was a steady presence, his demeanor calm in the face of Zulan's perpetual storm. He carried a rolled report in his hand.

"Your Majesty," Kael said, his voice level.

Zulan didn't look at him, his gaze on the window that overlooked the training grounds below. "What is it?"

"A report from the southern patrols. A rogue party. Large. Roaming the borderlands between our territory and the Ember Soul pack."

Zulan's jaw tightened. "Direction?"

"Currently stationary. They seem to be scavenging."

"As long as they don't move in the direction of my lands, let them be," Zulan said, his voice flat. "For now."

Kael nodded, though Zulan could feel his Beta's disapproval. It was a risk to leave a rogue party unmolested, but Zulan had no patience for the tedious work of tracking and eradicating them unless they became a direct threat.

"Leave me," Zulan commanded.

Kael bowed his head slightly and retreated through the same side door he had entered, leaving Zulan alone with the silence and his thoughts. He stood and walked to the window, his hands clasped behind his back. Below, his warriors trained, their movements fluid and powerful, but it wasn't enough. It was never enough.

Inside him, his Lycan stirred. Shadow was a restless presence, a coiled power that mirrored Zulan's own impatience. His fur was the color of a lightless night, a deep, absorbing black that seemed to drink the light.

They are weak, Shadow's voice rumbled in his mind. The pack is exposed without an Alpha's heirs. A Luna would strengthen us.

Zulan scoffed internally. A Luna would be a leash. A distraction. I need a fight, not a mate to coddle.

We need both, Shadow countered, his impatience a sharp edge. The pack needs an heir. You need the balance she would bring.

Zulan's reflection stared back at him from the glass, his features sharp and unforgiving. He was a King forged in battle, his authority won with blood and steel. The thought of taking a Luna, of being tied to a palace and the endless politics of court, was suffocating. What he needed was the thrill of the hunt, the satisfaction of a clean kill, the certainty of a challenge met and overcome. The rogues could wait. For now.